


coffee and cream

by asexuelf



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Breakfast, Canon GNC Character, Canon Gay Character, Episode 5: Memories and Dreams, Fix-It of Sorts, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gender Non-Conforming Sal Fisher, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sal Wears Pretty Clothes, Spoilers, ok thats enough tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Still reeling from Sal's resurrection, Travis copes in the light of the new day after the battle in the temple.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	coffee and cream

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler warning for episode 5, including the hidden epilogue. at least, what i think is the hidden epilogue. -w-; whatever we're calling the little slide-show about what happens post-temple.
> 
> this can be considered a sequel to my other post-canon fix-it, [the birds still cry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21779353), but can also be read as a standalone.
> 
> sorry for any typos or formatting issues - and i hope you enjoy!

Despite the fact that he was here only yesterday, being in Ash and Neil's house feels uncomfortable. He almost feels like he's doing something wrong - like any minute the punishment will come clapping down, fiery and well-deserved. 

Sitting in a wobbly chair at their cheap, awkwardly small table was something he had longed to do when he left the letter behind, has longed to do for ages, but the reality isn't as rose-colored as he'd hoped. His coffee tastes bitter no matter how much he sweetens it and every sip from Sal's chipped old mug just reminds him of what he could have lost. What he did lose.

Sal was dead.

This time yesterday, Sal was dead. Now, he's lying in his bed with Gizmo, his room unchanged as if he'd never left. Even Gizmo is the same, he'd told Travis - it had only been a little over two months, but Sal seemed shocked that not a single grey hair had cropped up in his fur since the time of his death. It was as if time had simply paused while Sal was gone.

Not for Travis. Every passing moment had been sandpaper over his skin, every tomorrow a fresh new Hell. It had been hard when Sal was in jail, fighting and failing to get him out when the Devourers of God wanted him dead so badly… But nothing was worse than that moment in the courtroom, hearing that the man he loves was sentenced to death and knowing there was nothing he could do to save him.

Alive and sleepy-eyed, Sal shuffles into the kitchen. His prosthetic is in his hand, unattached, held close to his satin-clad chest. He's dressed in one of his favorite nightgowns, one that Travis bought him on reflex once. He'd always loved buying nice things for Sal, but it hadn't occurred to him at the time that a gift like this might be inappropriate. It had been humiliating when he realized what he'd bought - but not as humiliating as actually giving Sal the gift. Luckily, Sal loved the thing, wore it up until his arrest. Wears it even now.

"Here," Travis says, and stands, holding the chair open for Sal to sit in.

"Thank you, dove," Sal yawns. Or maybe he says  _ 'love' _ . It's a little hard to tell.

He sits in the chair, sighing and smacking his mouth sleepily. It's afternoon now, past the acceptable time to have lunch in Travis' opinion, but he opens the fridge and pulls out a few eggs anyways. Ash and Neil didn't keep the place very well-stocked, given that neither of them kept proper jobs after Sal's death, but there's enough for a cheese omelette. It'll be plain, since Travis can't seem to find any kind of spice rack, but Sal was never the sort to complain about something like that.  _ Isn't  _ the sort.

Travis tries to focus on his task as he cracks the eggs into the pan, as he turns the stove on, as he searches for a clean spatula, but he keeps glancing back at Sal. His hair is a mess, a blue birds' nest around his head, and he's  _ alive. _ He's alive and he's sitting at his table and Travis is so close, could reach out and touch him right now.

Travis clears his throat. "Do you want my coffee?"

"Bleck!" The sound surprises Travis so much he almost laughs. "Sorry, not a fan of coffee. It's all yours, Travis."

He'll never get tired of Sal saying his name. Never.

Travis turns back to the food, but even though he's watching the eggs for burning, feeling the plastic handle of the cheap spatula, smelling the putrid smell of frying egg that he hates so damn much, all of his senses seem somehow glued to Sal. Sal, Sal, Sal. The same Sal that was in the dirt less than twenty four hours ago.  _ His _ Sally Face.

"Do you want chives," he asks. "I don't know if there's chives in the fridge."

"Did you live here after my arrest?"

Taken aback, Travis turns his head, eyes wide in surprise. "What? No, I was at the temple. My father…" He thinks of his father, falling, falling, falling into endless darkness for the rest of eternity. Can he die in that darkness? If not, will the sword in his chest ache for all his unnatural existence? Will he suffer forever in this limbo Travis trapped him in? "My father is- uh. What was I saying?"

"I'm not sure. You kind of blanked out for a minute… Are you okay?" 

He makes to stand and Travis quickly waves him back down, a sudden panic taking him. "I'm okay, I'm fine! Please, sit down. Just let me see you sitting there."

That wasn't something he meant to share; he feels naked having said it, embarrassed and flayed open. But it seems to impact Sal, who sits down and stares at Travis with one large, wet eye.

Travis speaks up before Sal can say anything about the cult or about dying or about prison. Before he can break the spell. "Did you sleep well?"

A humorless laugh leaves Sal, so quiet Travis almost doesn't hear it. "Shockingly, yes. You'd think I'd gotten enough sleep…"

Travis grinds his teeth and takes a deep breath. He flips the omelette. He's not ready to have this kind of talk. He isn't ready. "Is Gizmo settling well?"

"I think so." A sigh. "Poor Gizmo… I've never seen him cry like that."

Oh, the way that cat had yowled when Sal came through the front door… Travis had felt similarly. He and Gizmo always were kindred spirits.

"We're all happy you're home," he chances. The eggs steam when he squishes the omelette down against the pan. "I'm happy."

Despite Travis' earlier outburst, Sal stands - he can hear the chair moving against the floor. And then Sal is there, at his back, warm and real and  _ alive _ . He tries to fight the way it rises through him, but when his lip starts to shake, there's no turning back.

Sal stands on tip-toe, presses a kiss to Travis' jaw. "You don't seem happy."

"I am," he chokes. "I- I'm so glad you're okay."

Another kiss against his jaw, against his shoulder, until Sally moves away. "Go sit down."

Travis doesn't argue. He leaves Sal to the food on the stove and drops heavily into the chair he occupied before. His coffee is there, cold now, and he drinks it down in a few quick mouthfuls. Bizarrely, he finds himself wishing for something stronger.

Sal plates his lunch and places it in the spot next to Travis, going to the fridge next for some orange juice. Travis watches him the entire way. He can't stand the thought of looking away.

"I'm not going to disappear."

Abashed, Travis glances away, only to immediately look back at Sal. He's sitting beside him now, poking at his omelette with his fork, head turned towards Travis.

"I know," Travis lies.

The scrape of chair legs against tile sounds again as Sal slides a little closer to Travis. His hand is warm against Travis' arm. He doesn't say anything; he always goes quiet when he's waiting for Travis to tell him how he's feeling. It drove him crazy in highschool. It does now, too.

Sal laughs at Travis' expression. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay." He lays his head against Travis - his left side, carefully to avoid pain against his new old scars. "But I'm here. I wanna hear you."

Throat tight and eyes stinging, Travis swallows down a sob. "Eat your fucking lunch."

The hand on his arm squeezes. "It's okay. We're okay."

It's not true - half the world is engulfed in darkness, Todd and Maple are still possessed, Neil's injuries are still extensive, Larry is still a ghost, and Travis will spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for a man he isn't sure he killed. But Sal is here. Sal is alive.

For now, with the afternoon light invading the kitchen, that has to be enough. Travis thinks secretly that, even if the entire world were set aflame, it would still be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! the attention my previous fix it received left me inspired, so hopefully this fic lives up! 💖 let me know what you think!
> 
> 2/26/2020 EDIT: now featuring a semi-sequel to this semi-sequel! the new fic is called [the ending, the beginning (nothing in between)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906042) and can be read as a standalone as well


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